Regulus Holmes & The First Disaster of Hogwarts
by never3kno
Summary: After being adopted into the Holmes family I, Regulus H. focused all of my energy into becoming someone my new family would be proud of, especial after my uncle adopted famous Harry Potter during a case. He'd been left to die by his "loving family". Now as out first year starts father seems reluctant to allow us to go, but it's only school. Right? pre-slash JW/SH (M to be safe)


In the dead of night a large stone fortress stands seemingly silent from without. Deep within however voices rend the air as aurors combat approximately a dozen suspects at once. Spells fly throughout the lavishly decorated sitting room as only one figure seems unaffected by the chaos surrounding them. A young child, about 5 years of age, with bone white hair lies on the floor curled in on itself twitching almost imperceptibly. All fighting suddenly came to a halt as a richly dressed man in his late twenties with dark hair falls backwards and is impaled through the heart on a decorative blade. Using the momentary ceasefire a heavily scarred man quickly disarmed and bound the combatants. The last thing the child saw before sinking into unconsciousness was the concerned face of a young trainee with shockingly bright pink hair.

As he awoke slowly voices seemed to float around him as snippets of their conversation drifted to his ears.

"Monsters...a child...insane...Azkaban...kiss!" This voice was young and female, perhaps the trainee with the strange hair.

"That's too good...even Death Eaters...disgraceful...Gryffindors." Another, deeper and rougher, that for some reason invoked both fear and respect in equal measures.

"Poor child...mother...now his father...orphan...adoption...transfer..." The last voice spoke kindly yet offered no comfort as the child attempted to move away from the third voice without revealing he could hear it. Only after they'd finally moved away did he allow himself to relax enough to fall back into a healing slumber. By the time he awoke, he'd already been moved.

* * *

{two months later}

Reuel Kemp exits the red phone booth that serves as the entrance to the Ministry of Magic where he'd just met with a few ministry officials to discuss his recent 'misplacement'. His white-hot fury boils silently beneath his blank mask. Truly what infuriates him more than their reluctance to acknowledge what happened was that it hadn't even been noticed until someone, a random muggle they believe, had finally contacted the orphanage he should have resided at to inquire about adopting him. Standing still, even as the amateur glamour seems to slide across his skin like oil mixed with sand, his currently pale blue eyes (that seems to only made the thin band of wine red around his pupils and the outer edges of his iris all the more shocking and noticeable) scan the area cautiously, weighing his options. His red T-shirt with a cartoon lion, slightly loose ripped jeans, scuffed gold trainers, and limp, shoulder length silvery blond hair clash sharply with his formal stance. Casually he walks into a nearby alleyway contenting his desire for revenge against the ministry by losing his keeper for the umpteenth time in the last month in the back alleys of London.

After about ten minutes of blessed solitude the first phone begins to ring. Ignoring it, Reuel Kemp marveled at the sheer stupidity of wizard kind that had yet to learn how to effectively recapture a small child as he made the slow trek that would eventually lead him to The Leaky Cauldron to turn himself back in as always did after an excursion. Pausing mid-step he noticed the phone closest to him was ringing (the twelfth to do so by this point). Deciding to experiment with this observation he continued to the next phone booth and waited. As if on cue the phone began to ring almost immediately. Cautiously he approached it looking about suspiciously before slowly lifting the receiver and placing it against his ear as he'd seen muggles do. "What?" He hisses, in no mood to fake pleasantries. "Good evening young Mr. Kemp." The voice at the other end of the line has a posh accent, signifying someone of great means. "Would you please be so kind as to step into the vehicle behind you?" Glancing over his shoulder Reuel Kemp saw there was in fact a black car behind him that hadn't been there moments before. Injecting a good amount of boredom and annoyance into his voice he asks the million dollar question. "If I don't?" Not that he had any real intention to reject the invitation mind you. Anything to delay his return a little longer, after all he'd become very good at slipping out of dangerous situations with his childhood. "You will simply return to you caretaker, Mr. Websler, and miss out on an opportunity to never see him again. Yet I highly doubt you will pass this up so shall we end this farce?"  
Smirking faintly he replaced the receiver to its resting place forgoing any words of concession or farewell as he'll most likely meet the man in person soon enough. 'Finally something interesting to do, and possibly a chance to leave that brainless oaf Websler too.' Climbing into the vehicle he absently greets to young woman already there with subtle gesture common among pure-bloods when she looks up. The slight widening of her eyes before she started typing even faster, if possible, on her blackberry reveals she recognized it if not its significance, at least not fully.

The final destination is an abandoned warehouse by the wharf. While it appears dilapidated on the outside the inside of the building is well maintained and Reuel even spots runic spells for strength and mending in a few places. 'This just keeps getting better and better doesn't it?' Whoever invited him here had to either be a wizard or have connections in their world. This meeting just might prove to be profitable after all. His host turns out to be a man with a slightly too large waistline dressed in an expensively tailored suit seated at a small table set to serve tea for two (Although with enough cakes to feed four) Just another spoiled muggle bureaucrat at first glance, yet his controlled posture that left him able to move at a moment's notice and the way he grips the handle of his brolly hints at a man prepared for battle. 'The only question that remains is whether it holds either a wand or some form of muggle weaponry.'  
"Won't you join me for tea?" The man gestured lazily to the spread before him.  
"Name?" Despite the child's best efforts the slight rasp to his voice that he'd been able to disguise over the phone made itself known. The man's eyebrow lifts slightly but he doesn't comment. "My name is of no concern at the moment." Opening his mouth slightly, he silently closes it again when the man (Reuel decided to refer to him simply as _Suit_ for now) lifts his hand in a gesture of silence. "Should you accept my offer then, and only then, will I tell you my name." Unsure if he should sit or cut his losses and leave (the jog back to London offering an ample excuse for his tardiness), a slight movement at _Suit's_ shoulder caught his attention. Rising slowly from its perch curled around the man's neck is a slightly translucent brown snake of average size, unremarkable in appearance yet it moved with nothing but lethal grace as its nature demanded. 'Well that at least answers one of my questions, he's a wizard and that is logically a wand inside his brolly.' The snake was not real in the strictest sense of the word, but rather a manifestation of a person's wild magic based on their personality.(That the four base forms were identical to those of the Hogwarts houses was either merely magic's love of irony or perhaps one of the founders could see them as well.) Sitting cautiously Reuel Kemp watches _Suit_ as he dismisses the 'Blackberry woman' after being handed a file. Glancing at it momentarily in an illusion of reading he silently closes it and set it to the side. "Let's not waste each other's time shall we? You are Reuel Kemp, age six. This past December you were orphaned during an altercation within your family's home, and are currently a ward of the ministry. Officially you spent three months at the wrong orphanage in the place of another child until muggle-born ministry employee Mr. Daniel Websler decided he wished to foster you. We both know what truly happened though, especially considering I was the one that made them acknowledge their folly." As he spoke _Suit_ calmly poured two cups of tea, handing one to his guest, and selected a few cakes for himself before nudging the tray towards his guest. Reuel Kemp inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment and thanks as he selected a few for himself while _Suit_ continued speaking. "As for myself, my mother is very important to me and has recently decided it is past time I gain an heir. I highly doubt she cares if it is truly mine, so long as I blood-adopt it as tradition dictates in such situations. My offer is, in fact, quite simple. I wish to acquire a child with the potential of being and least somewhat intelligent by my family's standards, and you are in need of a legal guardian intelligent enough that you can stand to be in their presence of for more than five minutes without wishing to kill them. Simply put I wish to adopt you, are you agreeable to this?"  
After contemplating it for a moment as he took a sip of tea, Reuel Kemp replies. "Yes."  
"Very good Mr. Kemp. As we agreed, my name is Mycroft Holmes."

* * *

{Three years, eight months later}

Regulus Holmes, previously Reuel Kemp, looked around his room at the Holmes manor for the last time, the large windows showing the snow-covered grounds. Pausing momentarily he studied his appearance in the mirror. After becoming a Holmes he'd quickly abandoned the T-shirts, jeans, and trainers Websler had provided for him and instead developed a preference for dress shirts (navy today), dark slacks, and black loafers. The most noticeable change was the hair, no longer pale or limp it had gained a slight waviness over time and was glamoured a dark brown, almost black color. He'd finally rid himself of his _"Annoyingly suicidal tendencies"_, as his 'father' was prone to term it, a few months ago. Regulus was quite happy to point out that it was these _annoying_ tendencies he'd had that made their meeting possible. Today however was no time for joking. Recently his uncle had made an odd acquisition, quite bluntly, he'd gotten a child. Cause for alarm in and of itself considering the man's personality and habits, despite the efforts of one Dr. John Watson. Perhaps more (or less) so considering the medical reports on the child in question that his father had 'acquired'. However if certain details from father's men were correct (and for once father hoped they weren't), things may become much more complicated.

Reaching their destination was simple, if tedious because of traffic, and renting the C flat of 221 Baker Street only slightly more difficult. His young age making the landlady slightly reluctant when told a ten year old child would be living there alone. After a quick chat over tea and cakes (at the woman's flat, no kidnapping required for once), and using several well worded lies. Mrs. Hudson was convinced that having his new cousin around (even if his uncle couldn't join him due to work) would help John and Sherlock's new charge adjust to his surroundings. After inspecting his new home Regulus decided that introductions were most likely out of the way by now, and with the fight between brothers no doubt at its peak, now would be an opportune time to remind his 'loving' family to his presence. Right on cue a furious whispered tirade could just barely be heard as Regulus approached the top of the staircase from the basement. His uncle was quietly attempting to 'rip his father a new one' in several languages, studiously avoiding English, as he seemed to just barely keep himself from shouting his words as the ex-army doctor at his side attempted to calm him. Floundering on the sidelines unaware of anyone's approach was a young boy that looked closer to the age of 7 or 8 than the documented 10 (the results of long-term starvation) clearly attempting to smother his desire to flee from the enraged male though still twitching slightly. Sidling up behind him Regulus spoke quietly, "Hello there, cousin." The boy's knee-jerk reaction was to violent turn around while taking a step back his eyes wide and terrified, but it was what his recent haircut at the hospital to treat his injuries revealed that captured the taller boy's interest. A scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt just centimeters from his widow's peak. Bloody Hells, it was Harry Fucking Potter! Things were definitely more complicated now...


End file.
